


The Significance of Eternity

by DawnOfTomorrow



Series: The Significance of Touching Series [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: In the afterlife, M/M, Sake eternity and two fools in love, This time they're at peace...finally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 17:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: Truth be told, Madara hadn’t had much luck with death. It seemed like every time he was about to meet his end, something interfered, something yanked him back. This time, he knew it was different. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself laying on the porch of an unfamiliar house.He was a little relieved to find that the end wasn’t quite the end...in the end. The place he was in was beautiful. The smile of the man he found sitting by his side was even more so. Hashirama was sitting, his legs crossed and a cup of sake in his hand. Madara found another one by his side.Sitting up, he lifted it to toast his friend.





	1. Chapter 1

Truth be told, Madara hadn’t had much luck with death. It seemed like every time he was about to meet his end, something interfered, something yanked him back. This time, he knew it was different. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself laying on the porch of an unfamiliar house.

He was a little relieved to find that the end wasn’t quite the end...in the end. The place he was in was beautiful. The smile of the man he found sitting by his side was even more so. Hashirama was sitting, his legs crossed and a cup of sake in his hand. Madara found another one by his side.

Sitting up, he lifted it to toast his friend.

If the eternity of death for him meant sharing drinks with Hashirama, he could be content with that. Even the man’s incessant babbling, as he told him about his life, told him things that Madara already knew because he’d always kept watch, couldn’t make him feel different.

Madara had accepted Hashirama’s hand. He had accepted that which had perhaps been inevitable since it was first offered – he’d let Hashirama change him. It was only fair, of course. Their lives had been intertwined, connected even when separate...they had every right to change each other.

Looking at the man by his side, Madara was glad he had been the one to give in, in the end. Hashirama was beautiful the way he was, he didn’t need changing.

When Hashirama had found himself waking there, in that strange other place alone, he’d felt...disoriented. He remembered very clearly what had happened – the all-encompassing joy he’d felt when Madara had finally, finally accepted his offer of peace between them.

He’d held...some hope at least, that things would simply end, that that feeling of happiness would be the last thing he ever felt...but as he looked around the beautiful place he was in, he couldn’t say he minded that either. The fact that there was a shogi board and some sake sitting next to him wasn’t bad either...except that there were two cups.

A pang went through his chest – could that mean that perhaps...perhaps Madara would join him? Hashirama spared no thought to anyone else, couldn’t, not when he had only just truly connected with the other man for the first time since they were children.

Mito, even his own children, had been dead for a long time – he rather reasoned that if it was them he was supposed to meet, they would have been waiting for him. No, he was sure it was Madara...or nobody.

Those had always been his two choices, and given the gift he had just received from Madara in life, solitude wasn’t daunting either. He was a dreamer – if he wished to, he could dream anything he wanted now, in death. It amused him that the place he had ended up in, in death, wasn’t Konoha.

At the same time, he wasn’t surprised either – Konoha had been his dream when he had been alive, and it had grown strong, outlived him and persevered. Death was different. Here he would rather deal with those dreams that didn’t come true...even if he had to do it alone.

He didn’t have to. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment the other appeared, laying next to him on the porch in peaceful slumber. He studied his face for a few moments before his eyes flickered open. They were normal, black eyes, no Sharingan in sight – they no longer had need for it. 

Hashirama didn’t mind – as beautiful as the many, many eyes he’d seen the man look at him with, the original had always been his favourite – they made it easiest for him to see the fire burning in the other man, the fire that drew him like a moth to a flame. He wasn’t scared of being burned either – never had been, really. For all that he was fire, Madara was also kind, so very kind. He wouldn’t change the man for anything. Just, sometimes, in life, he’d wished that the other be just a little more like him, a little more foolish, a little more...in love.

He’d poured Madara a cup of course because he had been the one to offer him that drink. For what it was worth, he thought it was kind of death to fulfil their last wish. Madara sat up, took the cup, no hesitation in his movement.

They toasted – in the quiet of their own minds, they toasted to the life and death of the other, because even in death neither of them wanted to shatter the fragile peace that they both knew would never be broken again.

Still, Hashirama thought as he looked at his old friend. They had time. This time, there would be no mistakes, no conflict, no fighting. Remembering the raw beauty of Madara on the battlefield made him feel a pang of regret for the last one. Madara in battle was beautiful and knowing he would never see the sight again...stung.

It faded as soon as Madara smiled at him, a rare expression he hadn’t seen often enough in life.

Madara couldn’t help but feel that it had been worth it, his life with all is breaks and cuts and more deaths than he cared to count. It had landed him where he longed to be – next to Hashirama. They were equals now. Hashirama wasn’t stronger, he wasn’t weaker, he was sure of it.

There would be no more conflict between them, and thus strength didn’t exist. He sipped his sake. He wasn’t sure why his friend looked quite so...foolish in his grinning and laughing, even by his admittedly absurd standards.

Even in the privacy of his own mind, he refused to acknowledge that he had an equally stupid grin on his own face. He wasn’t worried about finding out about his friend's strange quirks – after all, they had eternity to spend on that porch together and he fully intended to do so.

It sounded like almost enough time for the both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Spending the afterlife with your best friend is a wonderful thing, Hashirama discovers. Madara is a lot less...bristly than he was in life. Not that he didn't love the man that way too, but after a lifetime of fighting, of conflict, of empty peace without the man by his side... It's lovely.

They no longer need to eat, no longer need to sleep... But they can. The house they found themselves in has everything they could want, and they quickly found that they could be anywhere they wanted to be simply by thinking of the place...neither made much use of this discovery. 

Hashirama didn't know it yet but Madara had no wish to be elsewhere and although Madara didn't truly know either, he suspected the same was true for the first Hokage. 

Oddly enough, after all the time they spent together, with Hashirama fawning over Madara and chasing after him to make their dream come true, it's not Madara who realised it first, but Hashirama. 

With no true way of marking the passage of time - the clocks only work when they actively think about them and calendars show random dates every morning - there isn't much for them to do but talk, play shogi or share drinks.

Hashirama wondered why his friend was okay with that. Madara had never truly been calm even in peace. He'd expected his slightly younger friend to start pacing, to look for a way to run, to fight...he did not. 

After some time, much as he was grateful for it, Hashirama started to wonder. Why wasn't his friend growing restless? 

It occurred to him, eventually, the outlandish possibility that his feelings may be returned occurred to him while meditating in the garden surrounding their home. Madara was laying on the porch like a cat in the sun, in complete silence.

In life Hashirama rarely ever indulged in thoughts that Madara might feel the same. It was too dangerous, too seductive.

In death, however, he was no longer quite so afraid, and the thought filled him with a strange sort of excitement. Of course, it wasn't as simple as confessing or asking the other man about his feelings. 

No, he was still Madara, still proud, short-tempered and a little bit crazy. Exactly like he remembered him from life. Hashirama allowed himself a fond smile as he looked at his friend, asleep nearby.

Unbeknownst to him, Madara wasn't asleep. He was well aware of Hashirama's warm brown eyes on him, enjoying the sensation. Unlike his friend, he had neither intention nor desire to disturb the easy contentment they had settled in.

The fire that burned in him for his friend glowed no less brightly than it had in life, but he found with just the two of them together, he was no longer afraid of it burning him, no longer needed something to feed it other than what he already had. 

He was no longer afraid of agreeing when Hashirama asked him to join him in something... Sometimes, it was even him who did the inviting. It was more than enough for him, hardly even occurred to him to want more. He'd spent years while working with Black Zetsu, imagining the many, many ways he would have Hashirama as his lover given the chances.

Though the thought certainly still appealed, an eternity by his side was good enough for Madara Uchiha. 

Thankfully for them both, Hashirama wasn't nearly so passive in his love for Madara, but then it had always been that way - he'd push forward, Madara would...accept it.

He saw no reason to change that this late in their shared tale. So, every once in a while, he started to push the boundaries a little. 

Lingering touches became time spent outright leaning against his side, meditation time was spent with Hashirama's head in Madara's lap whenever the Uchiha tolerated it.

Not that he didn't find himself face first in the dirt a few times... but then, he always stood up smiling afterwards.

One drink became three and Hashirama would insist helping his friend back to his bedroom, even if there was no true need for it. Madara rarely refused. 

Hashirama grew more certain every day, and his heart swelled to the point where he occasionally had to fight tears for no reason at all. He wasn't sad or upset that they hadn't been together in life... the possibility of his feelings being reciprocated in death was more than he'd hoped for, really. 

Madara was aware that Hashirama was changing little by little. The already clingy man turned into a veritable limpet, almost constantly touching, sometimes seemingly unaware. 

In life, it would have grated on him. In death, he was merely a little concerned. Was his affectionate friend lonely? Madara knew he wasn't always the friendliest company and that he could hardly replace the huge family the man had acquired through his life...so instead, he bore the touches and tried to occasionally return them.

Whenever he did, Hashirama all but melted, his beautiful smile turning into something beyond what Madara could describe. 

He never suspected that Hashirama returned his feelings, nor that the man might know about his own. From his point of view, nothing much had changed after all - Hashirama was more touchy, and sometimes had the strangest expression of almost tears in his face...but that was it, for the most part, as far as changes went.

Hashirama kept quiet as long as he could. He was more and more sure with every interaction, every game of shogi or go, ever smirk the other man gave him. 

Quiet happiness had turned into the burning desire to just confront the other, to finally learn the truth... Hashirama was a dreamer and he wanted that final dream of his fulfilled. He didn't know why what had sated him before was no longer enough, but it wasn't. 

The irony that this time it was him who grew restless in peace was entirely lost on Hashirama, of course.

There was no one moment he made the decision for things to be different, really, at least not as far as Hashirama was aware. They'd done what they always did, shared a quiet supper together before heading to their respective bedrooms for sleep they didn't need but enjoyed. 

He'd gone to sleep, a peaceful slumber entirely foreign to shinobi in life, safe in the knowledge his friend was not far, would never be far again. 

When he'd opened his eyes next, somewhere deep within him, he'd known. Known that it was time, known that the moment for his dream to end had come. Smiling brightly even by his standard, he'd swung his legs out of bed and practically sprinted to where he knew - and he always knew - the other one was. 

Hashirama would no longer be a dreamer...but hopefully, being a lover, Madara's lover, would suit him even more.


	3. Chapter 3

Hashirama had always been deeply terrified of Madara finding out about his feelings in life. The fragile peace between them, between their clans, the shared dream of their village had far outweighed Hashirama's desire to have Madara for himself. Things might have been different if he had known that his feelings were reciprocated...but even then, he wasn't sure he would have acted on it. In the privacy of his thoughts, he could do and say to the man whatever he wanted, and never receive a negative reaction for it.

After he'd killed Madara that first time and returned to Konoha, he had devoted years to doing just that. He'd thought what Madara would say or do in certain situations. Had imagined Madara holding his firstborn in his arms, smiling down at it. He'd felt terrible for it, guilty in a way he normally didn't, but he couldn't help it as he looked down at his child. In the real world, he knew, that child was dead already, as were his others.

His own grandchildren were getting on in years. Hashirama grinned when he remembered his unexpected meeting with little Tsuna...on the battlefield, she was a force to be reckoned with. He had been proud. He knew that Madara had been proud of the Uchiha boy too - if he hadn't, he wouldn't have offered him to join his side. Truly, Konoha had brought forth spectacular shinobi.

He leaned over to look at the spot of grass his friend was napping on. Madara still insisted on occasional training, on going through his katas...Hashirama usually either joined him or watched, always pleased by the way he moved, undaunted and unchanged by the fact they were both dead. This day, however, had been different. He'd woken up knowing it, that morning.

It was the day he'd push things just that little bit further. It was the day Madara would finally know his feelings...and he his friend's.

Hashirama sighed at the possibility that he might be misreading the signals, that Madara was simply indulging him and his whims rather than wanting his touch the way he did the Uchiha's. It was a distinct possibility. Madara had a temper, at the very least, and he pretty much expected to trigger it, however he approached the matter. It was a calculated risk, one he barely spared a second thought to. It would be worth it, the pay-off.

Hashirama had never so much as kissed Madara but he rather felt like he could almost taste the other on his lips as he leaned closer still to the sleeping man. Madara loved napping in the sun - he did it all the time. Hashirama never mentioned how much it reminded him of his younger brother, how much Tobirama could act like a cat at times...He kept quiet about it. Unafraid of Madara's temper, he still wasn't foolish enough to trigger it on purpose.

Usually.

His fingers reached out, lightly tugging on a strand of Madara's unruly hair. He didn't so much as twitch, simply opening one eye. It was black - it was always black now, the Sharingan nothing but a distant memory. Hashirama had thought the patterned red beautiful, just like his normal eyes, the ones he'd gazed into as children. When he said nothing, Madara closed his eye again, huffing in annoyance. Whatever he thought Hashirama was doing, it didn't seem important enough to pay attention to.

Hashirama felt his shoulders droop, doubt settling in. What if he was wrong? What if his friend did not feel the same and was only making the best of being stuck together with him? It was possible of course. What if he would have preferred his solitude and fate had stuck them together in some cruel joke, making one happy and the other unhappy?

'Madara?" The man grunted in response. 'Do you remember what we spoke about, all those years ago, before you first left Konoha?' His eyes didn't open but he nodded lazily. 'Do you remember what I said to you before your family's stone tablet?' A frown began to spread on his face but he still answered yes. Hashirama loved Madara's voice. It was deep, calming...and it always sounded like his friend was quietly chuckling to himself about something or other. More often or not, that something was Hashirama, he knew, but still.

'I said to you...' He began, unable to complete the sentence, another wave of doubt washing over him. 'True happiness can be found when two opposites, two contrary powers cooperate.' Madara supplied. 'Isn't that what you said?' He asked, smug that he remembered and Hashirama didn't. He did, of course, but no more words would leave his mouth, his no-longer-beating heart nearly beating out of his chest. Eventually, after a long silence, he managed to speak again.

'I...yes. That's what I said.' He agreed dumbly - still, it was better than nothing, better than silence. It also made Madara open his eyes, so really it was one of the better things he could have said. Swallowing thickly, he looked at his friend as the slightly shorter man sat up with an irritated sigh, clearly aware his precious nap was well and truly over. Hashirama would have laughed at the realisation that he ranked lower than a nap in his friend's priorities...except it didn't truly surprise him and he wasn't feeling like laughing either.

Hashirama mirrored his position, their knees brushing lightly as they sat a little closer than necessary. As always, the touch alone was enough to make Hashirama feel a little better, a little stronger, a little more powerful. He forced himself to smile. 'What is it, Hashirama?' Madara asked him, not entirely unfriendly, merely a little exasperated. 'About those words...you replied that the tablet had another interpretation.'

'Yes.'

Hashirama felt his palms dampen, his heart beating so fast it would have likely killed him if they'd still been alive. 'My words...they had another meaning too.' Madara tilted his head, clearly surprised, clearly examining his memory of the situation, looking for what Hashirama meant. He waited, patiently, curious to see if his oldest friend could figure it out by himself. Going by his scowl, he could not. Unwilling to wait for an answer, Hashirama sighed softly.

'I didn't want you to leave.' 'I am aware. Really, what's all this in aid of, Hashirama?' His friend's voice was still amused but he was rapidly growing more annoyed too. 'I was trying to say...at the time, that I believed that our happiness lay in us cooperating. In us...getting along.' When no reaction came, Hashirama pressed on. He'd stepped up to the cliff, he'd well have the courage to take the leap. 'I wanted you to stay in Konoha...with me. Not just as my friend but...WITH me.'

Madara blinked slowly. 'I...see. I never knew.' Hashirama laughed, a loud, obnoxious sound born entirely of nerves. 'No, of course not. You never figured it out. Plenty of others knew, though. Tobirama did. Even Mito.' The other man nodded again, squinting at his friend. 'Why are you telling me this now, Hashirama? We are already dead.'

'Exactly, Madara. We are dead. It's a little late for regrets, isn't it? A little late to let chances pass us by?' He gave his friend a fond smile, well aware that his eyes were filled with all the things he'd never allowed his friend to see...and still, Madara said nothing, simply studying him with some confusion. 'I suppose so. If you regret wanting me to stay after what I did-' Hashirama's hand surged forwards, landing over Madara's mouth in a heartbeat.

The man's eyes grew wide before narrowing - in anger. Hashirama didn't let go. Madara didn't pull back. 'No! Never that. I wanted peace, and I wanted you by my side. I got one but not the other...and I discovered one meant very little without the other.' He smiled wryly, remembering the pain, the emptiness that had consumed part of his mind during his first life. Eventually, he sighed, his fingers gentling on his friend's face, his thumb absent-mindedly tracing a cheek.

Madara's eyes still didn't quite show what he wanted, what he expected. Shock, realisation, even horror. Not...a guarded curiosity. His friend didn't understand, still.

Hashirama felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes as he leaned closer. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he brought their foreheads together in an intimate gesture, withdrawing his hand. 'Tell me old friend, will you call me foolish for what I desire? I've yearned for it since we were children. I never could tell you, too scared I'd upset the peace between us...until it was too late. We both died the day I plunged my sword into your chest, I simply kept walking afterwards.'

Brown eyes met black, both sets filled with emotion. 'Will you still call me foolish if I told you...if I tell you that I still want the same, that life, death and even this hasn't changed anything at all?'

He fell quiet - really, he'd said all he could, all he would say. Madara's eyes fell closed, his mouth pressed into a thin line...but he didn't draw back, didn't push Hashirama from himself. Then, a hand moved to the base of his neck, holding him in place against the Uchiha's forehead - as if he had even the slightest intention of pulling back. Vulnerable as though he was, as though he'd made himself, he wasn't truly afraid. He'd taken the leap off the cliff. All that was left to see was whether Madara would catch him...or whether he'd crash and burn.

As always, Hashirama had faith in his kind and gentle, beneath all his faults and temper, friend.

He was right to. Madara chuckled, his voice low when he finally replied. 'Yes, Hashirama, you are undoubtedly a fool.' His tone was fond though, not angry, and Hashirama let his tears fall freely, trickling down his cheeks as he looked into the slowly opening eyes of the man he loved so much he'd changed the world for him. Hashirama couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to when his friend continued. 'I'm a fool too, I suppose. I have been since we were children. I wonder sometimes if either of us had acted differently, what would have happened.'

Hashirama sighed. 'It would have been the same. We would have ended up here, no matter what.' Madara sneered lightly. 'If I'd killed you, that day in the valley..." Hashirama shrugged. 'I'd have waited here to see you again, just like I did when we got here. It may have taken a little longer, but... we were always going to end up here.' 'I suppose you are right, old friend.'

'A pair of fools we are, then?' Quite suddenly, Madara grinned, wildly, the kind of grin he only ever let Hashirama see in battle before. His breath hitched in his throat as he allowed himself to return it, for the first time without holding anything back, without hiding, without worrying. He'd jumped...and Madara had caught him. It didn't matter that they hadn't said the words, didn't matter at all. They understood each other in the way they were always supposed to, finally, FINALLY...Hashirama knew there was no happiness beyond what he felt. He'd finally achieved his dream, the last and most important one in a long series of them.

It was glorious even in death.

Madara still held his friend's head close to his, mostly to hold himself steady. He was aware the world around them wasn't spinning but he still rather felt like he would fall if he didn't hold on. They were indeed both fools. When Madara had finally understood...had finally allowed himself to understand what his stupid friend was trying to tell him, when he'd realised what it meant...truly, he'd expected more of a reaction from himself.

There was no earth-shattering realisation that Hashirama loved him, no dramatic sobbing, nothing of the sort...not even true surprise. All Madara felt was a sense of relief, a sense of a puzzle-piece slotting into place. Madara couldn't say the words he was sure the Senju wanted to hear, not just yet at the very least, but they had the rest of eternity for the other man to weasel them out of him...and if anyone could make Madara say something so...foolish, it was certainly Hashirama. For the time being they were both content to stay put, to bask in feelings they had either denied or hidden for far too long.

Madara knew Hashirama had meant his words - he truly believed that no matter what, they would have ended up where they had. Madara knew better. It had taken changing fate, all but spitting on life and death for them both to end up where they had...but he was happy for his romantic friend to think differently, for him to remain ignorant of at least some of the things Madara had done. It didn't matter anymore after all - they had landed where they had, and they would stay that way. There was nothing left for them to fight over, nothing they needed to protect from each other.

The last thing on that list had been their hearts...but those no longer needed protection. Hashirama had thrust a blade into Madara's chest once, but the man knew it would never happen again. After all, Hashirama was a protector, not a killer. He trusted him with his heart like he had trusted him with his dreams. Hashirama had made them all come true, one way or another. Madara knew his heart was safe with the other.

It wasn't even worth considering how he would treat Hashirama's heart, of course, now that he knew it was truly his. Madara had taken on fate and defeated it before, had battled gods and come out the other side - there was nothing left in the universe that he couldn't and wouldn't defeat to protect what he had now. It never would have occurred him to do anything but destroy the world for his friend if it became necessary.

Madara had been right, all those years ago - there was a place for beasts like him, and he had died trying to find it, had died and died and died...and then he'd found it. For all that Hashirama was a dreamer, Madara was too, he dreamed and longed just as fiercely. Just like Hashirama, his final dream came true too, long after he'd believed it possible. The first time their lips pressed together didn't feel like it was the first. Neither knew who had moved first, who had pulled back, tilted their head and pressed forward again...it didn't matter.

Later, of course, Madara would claim it had been him, that as always the other had kept him waiting...and Hashirama would let his shoulders sag and apologise to his friend, only to get yelled at for getting depressed so easily...except they'd both be laughing, neither of them at all caring about who really moved first. It was a dance they had started far too long ago at the side of a river, and it was one that would continue for the rest of eternity, the same dancers and yet the steps so different. It hadn't been meant to be, but that could have never stopped either of them from making it so anyway.


End file.
